


Home in the Stars

by jmcats



Series: Run For the Woods Now [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, M/M, lourry, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmcats/pseuds/jmcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the kind of love story that started with Louis' insane plans, a ridiculous plant, new neighbors, and a boy with warm brown eyes, round cheeks and promises to be there when Zayn was ready. He doesn't know how to explain it, but maybe he will be able to tell their son Safi one day how he decided to stop running and fell for Liam... One day, he will.</p><p>(Another follow up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/800140">Run for the Woods Now</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home in the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Fluff, fluff, a sick Safi, and more FLUFF!
> 
> I wrote this fic to cheer myself up. I wanted something that made me feel good and, hopefully, other people will like it too. Maybe it'll put someone in a good mood? I hope.
> 
> Song used -- "Asleep" by Emily Browning (original by the Smiths). I know it's a rather sad song to use for the context of the story but I liked how dreamy it sounds, so yeah.

With each breath, he knows this feeling inside of him feels warmer than it should.

Zayn thinks it’s having his mum around, in the kitchen, humming quietly with a small smile on her lips.  It’s the scent of those vanilla and sharp cinnamon candles she’s burning, wavering just beneath the smell of homecooked soup that she’s stirring in a large pot – one that he didn’t even know they _owned_ , but he doesn’t spend nearly as much time in the kitchen as Liam does.  It’s the heady aroma of tea, that stinging herbal kind that she only makes when he’s ill or stressed – to which he is neither but he doesn’t complain when she starts the kettle.

She smiles at him while wiping up a coffee stain from the counter or folding up stray pieces of laundry – things he repeatedly tells her not to do but he thinks she can’t help it.  Something about fitting herself back in his life, into _their_ lives keeps her grinning.  It keeps that warm feeling coating the bottom of his stomach.  She’s a gust of sweet summer air, smiling down at him whenever he clings to one of Liam’s shirts – still smelling like a breath of body wash and sandalwood, like _Liam_ – while sketching or writing.

Maybe it’s the safety of that plush couch in the living area, with the crazy throw pillows Louis insisted on – which isn’t nearly as bad as that oddly shaped purple chair at he and Harry’s flat, or that ridiculously large plant that he still hasn’t gotten over.  It’s that sinking feeling of work being put away, even that sketch he was working on for hours, lying somewhere beneath the glass coffee table now.  It could be Louis stretched out on the couch near the corner, his head tipped back with that silly fringe catching his eyelashes when he blinks too quickly.  His feet are propped on the arm of the couch, his shirt rucking up to expose tan skin with his phone held above his head to capture silly selfies that Zayn’s certain he’s sending to Harry.

He’s not completely shocked by Louis’ codependences, – he thinks, even if Louis won’t admit it, he was surviving for the longest off of clinging to Niall and him – it’s an overwhelming feeling to watch Harry and Louis.  Fingers interlocked, the birth of something magical anytime the other breathes.  They’re that missing piece – lock and key, turned upside down – that Zayn’s not certain he knew Louis was without.  It’s an alternating rhythm they share, the way blue eyes meet green and spiral downhill from there, that Louis can’t admit aloud.

Louis is in love with Harry, full enraptured in it.  Zayn wonders how long he’ll wait before Harry finally makes Louis commit to it, hand-in-hand, through the thicket of the woods without fear of abandonment.

It feels like a wild idea, but it’s something that still leaves him on the edge of contentment.

He knows this feeling is one he’s lived in enough for a few months now – _reverie_ – but it feels so short-lived when the small body curled between his legs, snuggling to his stomach with a small pout on his lips, looks up at him with wide lilac eyes.  He smiles down at Safi, stringing his nimble fingers through his son’s hair, drawing his thumb over Safi’s brow.  That skin feels too warm, hot against Zayn’s fingers.  He swallows back a frown, blinking down at Safi until those small shoulders lift for a shrug, wide eyes dropping back down to the coloring book in his lap.

The sun in the book has been colored a bright green, the fire engine a dulled blue.  He lets Safi live in his own imaginative world where suns are green, grass is red, and everything is a mess of bright hues and happy smiles.  Zayn quirks an eyebrow, watches the way Safi does his best to stay inside of the lines.  He snorts to himself because Liam’s put in so much effort into teaching Safi how to color, shade things in, stay within those thick, bold lines that intimidate Safi a little.  He does it all with the tip of his tongue sticking out of his small mouth, his brow furrowed and the kind of concentration Zayn thinks he gives to his drawings – his mum reminds him that he was the same way when he was four years old but Zayn likes to think he had a little more drama with his artwork; his mum thinks he’s full of himself.  He doesn’t completely disagree.

Safi tips his head back again, snuggling closer to Zayn before resting his temple on Zayn’s stomach, the hem of Zayn’s shirt pulled up.  They’re skin to skin, Safi’s warmth almost too much but he bares it.  He knows Safi feels comfort in that kind of closeness, never verbally saying it but there’s something dusty and glowing in his eyes when he crawls into Zayn’s lap after a shower or rests his head on Liam’s bare shoulder first thing in the morning.

Zayn thinks he’s the same way – about Liam.  He clings to him in the night.  He noses against Liam’s throat until his lips are against his birthmark, drags lazy fingers down Liam’s bare back while mapping out the small freckles he knows are there, tangles their bodies together after a good shag until there is no beginning, no discernible end.  He sniffs at Liam’s skin – the brilliant smell of sex, sweat, musk – and breathes in that high.

Liam doesn’t complain.  Zayn never pulls away when he does.

His hand eases down Safi’s neck, dipping below the collar of his shirt to feel that all too warm skin.  He feels the lift of his chest, the way Safi seems to struggle with the intake, and that frown finally settles against his lips.  He knew it the moment he called his mum the day before – Safi was sick.  It was in his slow movements, his lack of enthusiasm, the way he wanted nothing more but to curl between Liam and Zayn on the couch like he did when he was a toddler.  He laid there for hours, breathing out a few laughs through _the Incredibles_ or _Despicable Me_ but nothing concrete.

“You think it’s the flu?” Liam’s voice dropped, low and unsure.

He bit his bottom lip and waited on his mum.  He waited on something like a smile to remain on Safi’s lips but nothing stuck, except the rhythm of his heart.  The uneven rhythm that kept trying to find a pace that met Liam’s, Safi’s.

Zayn chews on his bottom lip, trying not to burn away in his own thoughts.  The way even Niall couldn’t draw a laugh out of his son, just a small smile that seemed flickering and nearly nonexistent.  The glow was a tarnished yellow when Safi usually burned neon bright.

“Why are you,” Safi swallows his words, a cough echoing in his chest.  Zayn sighs, his thumb sliding over Safi’s jaw before Safi blinks up at him, adding, “Why are you gonna marry?”

Zayn chews at his lip, his lashes sweeping over his cheeks a few times while he glances at Safi.  He does his best not to correct Safi, something he finds himself often doing – studying English as a major at Uni really seems to be rubbing off on him.  Liam catches him every time, reminding Zayn that Safi is indeed four years old and doesn’t have a command over proper diction and things of that nature.  Zayn thinks Liam’s the mental one because this is _Safi_.  _Safi Malik_.  He was born to be a genius.

There’s a sleepy-eyed wonder about Safi, the way his lips quirk up before pursing.  He sweeps his hand over Safi’s cheek, stuttering on a breath when Safi leans into the touch.

“What do you mean Saf?”

Safi gives a failed attempt at a shrug again, too weak.  He presses his head further into Zayn’s skin, soft and nearly gold skin paling a bit.  Zayn misses the pink of his cheeks, the way those eyes were a vibrant hue of faded purple against bluish-gold.  A small hand grips around a crayon, the other one holding the coloring book still in his lap.  He’s wearing that silly jersey Liam bought him – the one that’s getting entirely too small but Safi won’t let it out of his sight, something that Zayn catches Liam grinning about later in the dark.

“Uncle Lou said,” Safi starts, a sharp inhale of air coming from the other side of the room.  Zayn fixes his eyes on Louis immediately, the way his face moves from relaxed to panic just as quick.

“What did Uncle Lou say?” Zayn asks quietly, leaning in to nudge his chin against Safi’s head.

“ _Saf_ ,” Louis hisses, narrowing his eyes at Safi while offering Zayn a weak smile.

“He said you were gonna marry to make him and Uncle Haz look bad,” Safi huffs out, another hollowed inhale shaking against Zayn.

Louis groans, falling back on his couch with his hands thrown in the air while Zayn shakes his head, biting down on a grin.  He circles his arms around Safi, dragging him further up Zayn’s body until Safi’s back is pressed to Zayn’s chest, his small feet resting on Zayn’s upper thighs.

“I do believe the word I used was _upstage_ Saf,” Louis grumbles, tucking his chin.  His eyes turn back to his phone, thumbs moving swiftly over the screen while he sneaks quick looks at Zayn.

Zayn tries not to toss one of those stupid throw pillows at Louis’ head.  He’s doing so, just barely.

Zayn brushes his lips over Safi’s temple, the heat a quiet sting that he ignores until Safi settles in his arms, dragging out another croaky breath.  He can hear his mum’s quiet humming drawing closer, a smile perched on her lips as she sweeps by them, admiring the way Safi fits so gently in Zayn’s arms even though he’s much bigger now – “All limbs and hair, like his baba,” Liam tells him.  He doesn’t disagree with that either.

He takes a quick glance to the ring nestled around his finger, smiling for a brief inhale.  He clears his throat, his mum dropping a bowl of soup and a cup of tea on the coffee table before running a quiet hand over Safi’s head.  She makes a _tsk’ing_ noise with her mouth, shaking her head at Zayn.  He knows what she’s saying without speaking – Safi should be in bed.  He knows Safi won’t go, sick or not.  Not until Liam gets home, not until he has a chance to throw those small arms around Liam’s neck, begging Liam to sing softly in his ear until he falls asleep.

The thought, Liam trying to curl into Safi’s small bed once more just to hum against his ear, rock Safi in his arms while the bed squeaks until Safi’s drooling on his chest.  That tiny bed that was framed by Lightning McQueen, the walls a pale blue, almost silver in the moonlight with stars on the walls and ceilings.  Little glow in the dark stickers running up the corners, a poster of Buzz Lightyear on one wall while a few of Safi’s drawings are taped to the other walls.  A large teddy bear sitting on the rocking chair in a corner with blocks, stuffed animals, and little toys littering the floor.  The soft buzz of a music box Doniya bought him sitting on the dresser that was sloppily painted a faded white hue by Louis – “I did not go to Uni to be an Art major you _dick_.” – with splotches of handprints – Zayn, Liam, and Safi’s – all over the sides and drawers.  Just the slow sweep of the night and Liam’s fingers tangled in that blonde-brown hair.

It aches right along his senses until he can’t fight the smile bursting across his lips.

“Do you really want to know Saf?” Zayn wonders, nuzzling his nose into that soft hair.  He feels Safi’s fingers tiptoe over his forearm.  It’s a blistering, fevered heat that Zayn tries not to recoil against.

Safi gives a small nod, sucking in his bottom lip.  Those eyes – wondrous and full – remind Zayn of Liam.  The intake of his lip, cheeks full, a quiet brightness that feels meant just for Zayn.  There’s only drops of Perrie left there.  The rest feels like Liam.

It’s in the way his eyes crinkle right around the edges, cheeks pushing up when he laughs.  The sound is very much Zayn but the actions, the way his smile never seems to fade, feels like Liam.  The way Safi’s even better at football, trekking across the yard like Liam with slumped shoulders, a bowed head, and quick feet.  He chews on his thumbnail, eyes flicking downward when he’s nervous – something Zayn’s watched Liam do more times than he can remember.  He hates spicy food, like Liam, but craves chicken with curry like Zayn does.

There’s a twitch to his smile that reminds Zayn of Liam but when he glows, a sharp orange dusting like the setting sun, Liam swears it’s every bit of Zayn.  The way those eyes, sharp with gold but a smattering of hypnotic lilac, brighten at the sound of music – he’s not sure who it is but it feels like Liam, sounds like Zayn.  His drive to finish what he starts reminds Zayn of Perrie in hints and glimmers, but it feels so foreign now.

Perrie is so foreign now; just a face on the telly that reminds Zayn that, one day, he’ll tell Safi who his mum is.  He’ll tell his son that she made a choice that felt so painful with every breath, but incredibly brave looking back.

He always lets those thoughts settle, a pile of dust beneath his feet because all that he feels, sees, breathes is Liam and Safi.  Safi, with those small hands, tickling laugh, a deep inhale of adventure that Zayn knows he’s nothing like.

Safi warms his blood, strums his heart, pulls at his nerves until he’s nearly unraveled like Liam.

“I love Liam,” Zayn says, his voice circling around softness.

Safi quirks an eyebrow, leaning further back.  “Leeyum?”

Louis snorts, throwing a hand over his face.  He shakes with the laugh and Zayn wonders if he can reach beneath himself for one of those pillows without disrupting Safi.  Probably not, but he thinks he’s willing to try.

“ _Daddy_ ,” Zayn corrects himself with a smile, drawing his thumb over one of Safi’s cheeks.  “I love daddy, Saf.  That’s why I want to marry him.”

“Okay,” Safi says, his voice small.  He’s chewing on his bottom lip shyly – Zayn, no, _Liam_.  Definitely Liam.

Zayn leans in a little closer, lips pulling downward.  “You love daddy, right?”

Safi’s smile brightens immediately, a swift roll of his eyes at Zayn before she says, “Loads.”

Zayn snorts – fucking Louis Tomlinson.  He thinks he hears Louis snicker a few feet away, ignoring him to run his fingers along the short hair on the back of Safi’s head.  “Massively?”

“Massi – “ Safi chews on the word, rolling on his tongue.  He’s struggling, Zayn can see, drawing up a small smile on his lips.

“Tons, yeah?

Safi nods, an unsureness fluttered through his eyes.  Thick lashes bat over his cheeks, a spiderweb of gold, before he’s sighing.  “So you’re gonna marry _Leeyum_?”

Zayn laughs lowly, drawing in his bottom lip with his teeth.  “Yes.”

“And because he wants to make Uncle Harry and me look bad.  Don’t forget that part,” Louis adds with a pointed finger.

Safi blinks at him, Zayn narrowing his eyes.  “You’re rubbish, you know that?”

“You and Liam are putting all of this pressure on me to take my relationship with Harry to another level with your talks of weddings and ceremonies.  Do you know the little fucker asked me if I would wear a _white_ tux to our wedding?  Why would I bloody do that?  Why is the little shit _thinking_ about us getting married?” Louis rattles out, crumbling on the couch with a dramatic flair only Louis could pull off.

Zayn tries not to laugh, rubbing slowly at Safi’s stomach.

“Louis,” Tricia hums from the kitchen, peeking her head around the corner.  “ _Language_.  My grandson, yeah?”

Zayn catches the way Louis rolls his eyes, his nose wrinkling with a silent giggle while Louis glares at him.  He sighs out the end of the snicker, letting Safi’s fingers curl around his ring finger, toying with the ring.  He spots the way Safi’s constantly fascinated with it – small glimpses, fingers tugging at it, his small thumb pressing over the smooth material until Zayn smiles at him, Safi quickly pulling away with blush peppering his cheeks.  He’s chasing fairy dust in a field of green and Zayn breathes easier with each smile.

“Harry will probably want to play the Lumineers at our wedding,” Louis sighs out, unsettled in his position for a moment.  His face pinches, a gasp breaking over worried pink lips.  “Or worse – the Stones.”

“And you’d prefer a selection from _Les Misérables_?” Zayn wonders with a biting grin.  He ignores the way Louis flips him off, peeking to see if Zayn’s mum is watching.  She’s not and Louis smirks.

“I was thinking more along the lines of _the Sound of Music_ ,” Louis chimes, strumming his hands through the air as if he was leading an orchestra.  Theatrics and Louis, a perfect pair.

Zayn pretends not to hear Louis humming ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’ in the background, dropping his honey-gold eyes to his son with a corralled smile.

“Is it ‘cause daddy makes you _so_ happy?” Safi wonders, a dragging smile in his voice.

Zayn grins, turning his palm over.  Safi’s fingers tickle against the smooth part, dipping down to trace over the lines, the dried paint from earlier.

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes out, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Safi’s head.  It’s a patient sweep against his heart like the dusting of snow in the winter.  He swallows, once, twice, inhales.  “He does.”

“Uncle Lou says it’s also ‘cause you and daddy sleep in the same bed and other stuff that – “

“Safi Malik!” Louis squeaks, jerking from his position on the couch.  His phone thuds against the carpet while Louis looks on Safi with wild blue eyes, his brow lifted, everything in his expression incredulous and worried.

Safi’s eyes go large, a smile tickled over his lips.  Something colors in his cheeks, nearly unreadable, but Zayn feels it beat beneath his fingertips.

“What?”

“Safi, what have I told you about _secrets_?” Louis hisses, leaning forward with his fingers curling into fists.

Zayn shifts his lips sideways at Louis, his brow knitting together.  He thinks maybe Niall would make a much better best man.  Maybe it’s not too late to ask Ant or Danny.

“Don’t tell baba?” Safi wonders, tilting his head curiously.

Louis nods quickly, a jerky movement that Safi sputters a laugh at, slouching back against Zayn.

“You’re going to make a horrible parent, you know that?” Zayn offers flatly.

“Oi, that’s not my job,” Louis pushes out, folding his arms over his chest.  “Haz will be fabulous.  Reckon he’ll be the kind of father all the neighbor kids will love, yeah?  A right splendid provider.”

“So you two are still considering adopting?” Zayn wonders, pushing back Safi’s hair, tucking it behind his ear.  Safi swats his hand away, another cough quietly leaving his body.

Louis exhales a sigh, pushing at his hair, playing with the fabric of his jeans.  He’s still a child, with petulant looks and pouting lips.  It tickles a grin out of Zayn, Safi blinking at him with mild fascination.  It’s almost amusing, the way he’s trying to remain himself even though Zayn’s fingers can feel the slight fever, eyes watching the way another cough leaves Safi curling closer to Zayn.  He rests his lips against Safi’s forehead, fingers splaying over his small belly.

“Harry’ll be great,” Louis says with a parted smile, blue eyes flickering over his phone, still laid upside down on the floor.  He pauses, his eyebrows shifting before adding, “I want it for him.  For myself.  I’m just, I don’t know, unsure.”

“You’re great with kids,” Zayn assures him, rubbing his chin against the slope of Safi’s forehead until his son is whining gently.  He grins, spotted drops of the moon sinking through the window behind Louis.  “Look at how great you are with your sisters.  With Saf.”

“Safi’s _different_ ,” Louis argues mildly, hands floating in the air while attempting to finish the rest without words.  Zayn lifts his brow, drawing up a sigh from Louis and Safi’s lips.  “Safi is fantastic, really.”

“Brill,” Safi coughs out, something resembling a cheeky grin drifting over his lips – too much time spent with Harry, no doubt.

“Hmm,” Louis hums, nodding slowly.

“I like the word _brill,_ Uncle Lou,” Safi adds, a glittered spark in his eyes that seems so faded compared to the way he’s snuggling to Zayn like he can’t breathe.  Like his father’s touch cools that too warm skin.

“I thought your word was ace?” Louis questions, bottom lip poking out.

Safi sighs, a roll of his eyes – so fucking Louis Tomlinson – while shaking his head.  “That was before.  Keep up.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Louis huffs out, grinning at Safi until Safi’s lifting his lips into a dim smile, tipping further into Zayn’s body.

It pushes at the corners of Zayn’s lips but aches just beneath the layers of his heart.  He feels helpless with Safi like this, something he doesn’t admit to his mum but she sees it when she passes, rubbing softly at Safi’s arm before nodding at Zayn.  She’s passing out a cup of tea to Louis, still humming as she walks by again, smelling like dustings of pumpkin spice and sweet apples.

He breathes her in, eyes shifting shut.  He feels seven years old again, watching her bake in the kitchen while Waliyha crawls around in her playpen, Doniya dancing by with a sharp laugh and a fizzled giggle.  _Home_.  That was home, that was innocence.

His eyes flutter open, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he glances to his left.  A small frame, dulling silver, a collage of pictures inside.  Liam.  Safi.  The three of them.  The corners of his mouth draw up, his thumb sweeping over the inside of Safi’s arm.

This is life, this is home.

“You’ll do fine,” Zayn finally says, turning to look at Louis.  He’s spread out pieces of a puzzle, blue eyes blinking with pursed lips.  It quickly fades into something a little more confident, arrogant.

“Of course.  I’ll smash it,” Louis declares, tipping his chin high defiantly.  “I am the Tommo.”

Zayn bites firmly into the corner of his bottom lip, letting his snicker rattle his chest rather than break into the air.  He eyes his mum as she nudges at his legs to make room for herself on the couch, Safi’s cheeks pushing up when she grins at him.  Zayn draws himself in, knees bending, feet curling beneath himself while letting Safi weakly scurry from his lap, moving closer to his daadi.  He pushes at his hair, fingers drowning in the thickness as his mum lifts the bowl of soup, gradually spooning some of it into Safi’s mouth.

He’s certain he feels as warm as the contents of the bowl, Safi’s cheeks pinking with his coughed out smile, that sparkle settling into his eyes again.

“I think it’s wonderful you want to adopt,” Tricia says with a smile dressed in mirth.  She spoons a smaller portion of soup into Safi’s waiting mouth, her nose wrinkling with slightly crinkled eyes when Safi gladly accepts it.  He’s a drizzle of waving smiles, his head rocking back and forth happily.

Zayn feels the chill, the way his mind sweeps over thoughts of never having this.  Of his mum, tender and wondrous like when he was a child, grinning at his son.  His son.  His Safi.

The other half of his world, sidled right next to Liam in his heart.

Louis shrugs with half of a sigh breezing past his lips, jerking his head to flick the fringe from his forehead, just above his eyes.  He rubs at his eyebrow, almost thoughtful if Zayn believed Louis was capable of such a thing.

For the record, he doesn’t but he gives his best mate the benefit of the doubt.

“Maybe it’s time we finally grew up,” Louis remarks with a dryness to his tone.

“What a concept, mate,” Zayn teases, biting down on his knuckle to mute his laugh.

Louis flips him off instantly, Tricia’s back to him.  Safi’s hand flies up to his mouth, choking a noise at the back of his throat that has Zayn laughing this time, full on with his head tipping back.

“Uncle Lou!” Safi barks out, well, he tries to but his voice is still scratchy and strangled by sickness.

“Safi,” Louis hisses with wide eyes and a curve to his mouth.  “Secrets.”

Safi crosses his arms, a pout hanging on his lips while Tricia glances around with a suspicious expression.  Zayn lifts his hands innocently, Louis doing his best to avert his eyes like he’s done nothing wrong.

“Boys,” Tricia says with a low laugh, spooning up some more soup for Safi.

The moon kicks over the room, silvers and spindling blues haloing behind Tricia while Safi’s cheeks glow pale, droopy eyes and a tug of a frown on his mouth.  Zayn can’t resist reaching forward to smooth a hand down Safi’s back, fingers pressing over the small knobs of his spine with a gentled smile on his lips.  The heat from Safi’s body, a rolling fever, tickles against Zayn’s skin until Safi’s folding into the touch.  He’s leaning back, stretching for his father’s hand and Zayn, swallowing slowly, scoots forward to give his son what he needs.

He wonders for a moment how many stars are dripping down from the sky.  He smiles to himself, fond memories of lying across the lawn with a hand on his stomach, his head nestled into the crook of Liam’s neck with Liam’s strong arm draped around him.  Safi was always nestled between them on a stretch of blanket that wasn’t entirely big but just enough to shelter Safi from the tickling grass while Zayn and Liam’s legs hung off the frayed end of it.  Liam would whisper stories his mum would tell him about the moon and stars, waiting until Safi was smiling and sleep on Zayn’s chest before leaning in to steal a few kisses from Zayn’s lips.  He would whisper about this being his favorite dream – quiet moments where the crickets chirped, the wind shifted, and a family of his own so close he could breathe them in.

They were his family, his breath of fresh air and Liam reminded him that later on, across their bed, while he slowly thrust inside of Zayn.  He reminded Zayn with kisses beneath his eyelids, a small nuzzle of their noses before that slow rocking turned hard and fast, Liam’s name danced across Zayn’s tongue.  Zayn saw the stars that night, etched into brown eyes with a crescent smile on Liam’s lips.  He always waited until Liam was asleep, curled around him, before whispering his own dream about falling in love with someone who made him feel that this world wasn’t too big to handle with just him and Safi.

Somewhere, he knows one day his son will tell a tale of the stars and the moon and what they meant to his parents.

“Daadi,” Safi coughs out, rubbing anxiously at his chest before blinking up at his grandmother.  “Do you like Leeyum?”

Tricia stirs the spoon around in the bowl of still warm soup, running her eyes over Safi for a moment before glancing at Zayn.  He offers her a small shrug, chewing at his lip.

He wishes he could say he’s not surprised by the things his son says, but he still is.  He’s a wonder, a low hanging star that’s burning with curious things that leave Zayn smiling and tripping over his own words.  He’s thankful for mates like Louis who are very much the same way with his wild questions, daring looks, and the kind of bullocks that makes Zayn blush more than he’d like to admit.

Maybe Louis truly was good for something.  The thought alone leaves him a little sick with a clipped grin.

Tricia leans in, tapping the end of Safi’s nose with her finger.  “Saf, I very much love your daddy.  He’s like a son to me.”

“Like I’m his son?” Safi wonders, tilting his head a little.  There’s a smile on his lips, one that reminds Zayn of his own when he was younger and impatiently begging his mummy for a slice of her blueberry crumble.

Tricia laughs heartily, nodding at Safi.  “Yes, like you are his.  You _are_ his son and I love your daddy because he makes your baba the happiest person in the world.  It makes me happy knowing how much he loves and cares about _both_ of you,” she explains, drawing Safi in for a quick embrace.

Zayn thinks he sees tears clinging to her lashes, her cheeks aglow as she rubs at Safi’s back.  She tangled in him like she always is whenever she has moments like this.  Moments that were almost missed.  Moments that nearly didn’t happen until Liam came along.  Moments that stick to his skin like the warm summer rain.

“This is sweeter than me mum’s trifle back home,” Louis sighs out with a chuffed expression.  He leans back, nodding at Zayn who’s too busy watching the amused appearance that falls on his son’s face while his mum wipes at her eyes with shaky hands.

“Oh Louis,” she presses out, her voice a bit choked as she waves him off with a wrinkled smirk.

“Can’t wait to have one of my own,” Louis teases, rolling his eyes when Safi wrinkles his nose at Louis.

Safi’s almost too grown now with his expressions and words, something that often leaves Zayn laughing wickedly while Liam tries not to bend to Safi’s every will.  Louis encourages while Harry and Niall merely shake their heads, patting Safi’s head until the moment passes.  It’s adorable, honestly, but something Zayn knows he’ll have to dampen a little before Safi starts his day at school before all of the other kids are laughing at him.  Or think he’s mental.

“You’ll do brilliant,” Zayn says mockingly to Louis, lifting a hand to pull through his hair.  He winces at himself, remembering when this thick hair was styled and looking somewhat presentable.  It’s all gone to shit now.

“He _will_ ,” Tricia argues kindly, waving her son off to look at Louis.  “Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“A daughter,” Louis says without hesitation, a strumming pride glazed over his expression.  He scratches at the back of his head for a moment, trying not to look puzzled.  “But Haz says he’d be happy with anything we end up with.”

“As he should,” Tricia says with a nod, offering Safi some more soup.  He declines with a small frown, scooting back until he’s pressing close to Zayn.  She smiles fondly at them, a hand over her chest like she’s wanting to say something.  Zayn’s certain it would be mushy and far too emotional so he’s thankful for her biting on her lip and lingering in silence instead.

“Secretly,” Louis whispers, looking around as if there is anyone other than the four of them in the room, “I think the little twit wants twins.  Can you imagine?”

Tricia giggles quietly, Zayn puffing out a breath while Safi looks completely lost.  Zayn can relate.

“Thought about names yet, mate?” Zayn asks, directing his eyes at Louis.

Safi sniffles, shaking with a sneeze before rubbing his head against Zayn’s stomach.  Zayn fits his hand over Safi’s crown, stroking against Safi’s scalp with his fingers before they slide down to rub over Safi’s fuzzy, almost blonde eyebrows.

Louis rubs at his lips thoughtfully, a trademark Zayn knows Louis picked up from Harry.  That and the ability to somehow make being mental look sort of cute.

“Harry would probably want to name her Delilah,” Louis sighs out, lips upturning immediately.  “Or worse – Holly because he loves California or something.”

Zayn snorts while Tricia’s eyes go wide, her initial attempt not to balk at Louis fading quickly.

“And what would _you_ name her?” Zayn offers challengingly, arching his eyebrow high at Louis.

“Ella,” Louis says simply, confidently.

“ _Oh_ ,” Tricia says with a gush, cheeks lifting with her smile.  “Ella is nice.”

Zayn nods slowly, slightly impressed.  “Cheers, mate.”

Somehow, Zayn pictures Louis’ daughter – who would probably go nameless for _months_ because he’s seen disagreements between Harry and Louis.  They last longer than some wars in third world countries, he’s certain – being a picture of sweetness with auburn hair and wide, shimmering eyes that are like hints of cinnamon.  He can see her cheeks dusted with rose, that thick brown hair a swirl of bouncy curls – probably dressed in far too many tiny little bows because Louis would leave Harry in charge of things like that.  He imagines Harry and Louis would argue for hours over who she looks like even though she’d be a million pieces of the sun and nothing like either of them.

He grins to himself, leaning back a little with Safi struggling to move with him.  He draws him back, his thumb running the bridge of Safi’s nose, down over his lips.  Safi doesn’t fuss, merely breathes out a contented sigh that reminds Zayn that his world is petite slivers of a silver sky shining down on his heart.

**

Harry and Niall come by after the usual Thursday Acoustic Night, Niall raving about his set while Harry seems content on accepting a bowl of soup from Tricia with a grin before finding a corner on the couch with Louis.  He nods along to each one of Niall’s stories – grinning about the way Niall goes on about the crowd tonight, the way Cher nearly spilled a cup of coffee on some record exec who was there to check out Ed, even reenacting the way the front row of Uni girls sighed dreamily while Niall strummed through that one song he’d written for Eleanor.  Louis flounders through it all, making faces, poking Harry’s side until some of his attention falls on Louis before he’s a little less noisy and satisfied.

He’s a child and Zayn wonders sometimes if Louis’ is fit more to be Safi’s best mate rather than his.  It leaves a burning smile on his lips, eyes lit up with a parted joy at the way Louis pretends not to fawn over Harry.  It happens every time – blue eyes fixed on green eyes, little smiles, fingertips tracing the color in each other’s cheeks like they can’t believe this is really happening.

It’s cute, not that Zayn believes anything those two does is _cute_.  He can’t help but make a face at them.  They’re fucking nauseating – “Jealous much?” Louis spouts off every time.  He’s not.  Well, maybe a little.  In a good way, but still.

Zayn wonders if he’s still that way – awed and swallowed by something incredible.  He knows Liam is, the way those eyes crinkle near the edges with that tipping smile.  A world of wonder in honey-brown eyes that doesn’t seem to stop, even when Zayn’s unable to return that same look.  Even when Zayn’s hanging around in his own mind, fearful it’s just a wave that’s surely going to break and leave the sand dry and lifeless.

It’s just a thought – dying on the edge of his brain.  It sinks away when Liam’s fingers round the sharpness of his cheek, a thumb pressing at Zayn’s bottom lip.  Mouths pressed together, hidden in the dark with hands shifting over naked skin.  The way Liam shifts beneath him, holding in deep sighs, curled whimpers.  That heat surrounding him as he drags his cock through Liam.  The blissed-out look in those eyes, like Liam’s somewhere in the stars with Zayn buried in him.  Fingers curling into the sheets, the room on fire, their words caught up in groans and tangled breaths.

The thought dies between the sheets, the bed rocking, Zayn whispering Liam’s name until he comes down from his high and mutters things against Zayn’s skin that stick like dark ink from a tattoo.

It isn’t long before Liam’s pushing open the front door, sweeping through the foyer before dragging his feet as he enters the living area.  His face is wrinkled with exhaustion but there’s a warm smile on his lips, that thick bottom lip protruding a little.  There’s a slow warmness in his eyes that has Zayn’s heart racing a tick too fast.  His shoulders are a little slumped, fingers peeling his t-shirt – one of Zayn’s Captain America ones – from his skin with the silver moonlight from the front catching the side of his face.  He’s tan skin, thick hair at the top that’s a faint memory of the quiff it was this morning.  A gentle slope to his nose, a nice amount of scruff on his face that’s thick and blonde.  He looks a little older, but still gentle like a puppy.  One of those hands cups the nape of his neck and Zayn bites down on his lip because there’s a softness about Liam’s face that reminds Zayn of the years that have past, the face that he doesn’t remember not being in love with.

“Daddy!” Safi cheers, a burst of energy Zayn’s certain he’s been holding in.  He’s rushing from Zayn’s arms, scurrying across the room toward Liam.  “Missed you!”

Liam’s scooping Safi up with a hearty laugh, twirling him around while hugging him tightly.  Zayn listens to Safi’s soft giggles, his sated sigh as he buries his face in the crook of Liam’s neck while Liam mouths velvety kisses to Safi’s forehead.  Zayn catches the hint of concern that passes through those wide brown eyes as he presses his lips to Safi’s temple.

“Still got a fever?” Liam asks, rubbing his scruff to Safi’s forehead until Safi pushes out a weak groan.

Zayn nods slowly, sinking further into the couch.  He doesn’t know what this feeling is – failure? Disappointment? – that slides over him when Liam nods back, a frown pulling at Liam’s lips.  He wonders sometimes if Liam’s better at this than he will ever be – being a father.  It’s natural for Liam in ways Zayn has yet to understand, though he thinks he sees it in the way Liam cares about everyone.  He’s loyal to his mates, jovial with his family, even gentle with strangers.

Zayn wishes he knew what that was like – being so full that he always has enough to share with others.

“He’s a trooper,” Louis announces before Zayn can speak, raising a triumphant fist.  “Lad’s taking it all with a smile.”

Harry nods along, a perked up grin offered to Safi when he looks up.

“You okay Saf?” Harry asks, his voice gravelly and low.

Safi coughs quietly, nodding.  “Daddy’s home, Uncle Haz.  I’m great!”

There’s a swelling pride passing over Liam’s face, cheeks pinking, eyes turning a little glassy.

“He’s doing great Liam,” Tricia adds, breezing through the room to reach Liam.  She leans up, Liam ducking down a little so she can press a kiss to his cheek.  She’s ruffling Safi’s hair, eyes crinkling with laughter when he puts on a pout that’s almost incredulous in its weak form.  “He ate almost a whole bowl of soup and he even did some drawings today.”

“Did you?” Liam asks, his mouth spread wide with a smile.

Safi nods quickly, reaching up to brush tiny fingers through Liam’s hair.  Zayn feels the tightness in his chest, watching them.  Safi’s barely a year old again, playing with Liam’s hair while Liam towels him off after a bath.  They’re wearing twin smiles and Zayn’s not sure when this all happened, this slow rhythm of happiness but he knows it won’t leave.

It just _won’t_.

“Zayn’s kept an eye on him all day.  Safi won’t leave his side,” Tricia says with a small giggle, her hand lifting to cover her mouth while she glances at Zayn.

There’s a rush of heat to his cheeks, the way Liam looks upon him like… like he _adores_ Zayn.  He feels like a fucking girl, shoulders tensing with his teeth biting at his lip.  He cups his hands together, fingers twiddling, bare feet dragging over the floor.  He’s without words and Liam chuckles at him.  The little shit actually _laughs_ at Zayn because he’s a blushing teenager under the eyes of his mates, his mum, his son, and he kind of hates Liam.

No, he kind of loves him in the worst possible way.

“Can we look-y at _Toy Story_ before bedtime?” Safi requests, his voice small and needy.

Liam hums, his smile sliding sideways like he’s actually considering it.  Zayn knows he’s not – it’s a given.  Liam can’t refuse Safi, even when he’s not sick.  It’s a little annoying but in a wonderful way.

“ _Toy Story_ and a song,” Liam promises, inching in to rest his forehead against Safi’s, laughing when Safi’s small hands cup his cheeks.  He lets Safi press a small kiss to the tip of his nose, Harry cooing while Louis and Niall make gagging noises.  Zayn pretends not to laugh when Tricia gives them a stern look, shaking her head at them until they’re silent again.

The room feels soft and quiet when Tricia passes by again, offering up more tea and dessert – something sticky and cinnamon – that Niall jumps at while Louis pleads for tea, Harry feeling the need for both.  Zayn doesn’t really notice, too caught up in the way his world moves slowly, his heart hammering against his chest when Liam fits himself onto the couch – Zayn pretends not to mind the way Liam budges him up, knocking their shoulders with a laugh while forcing Zayn into a corner of the couch with Liam’s warm body pressed to his – with Safi still nestled in his arms.  There’s a glaze of happiness – really, when did he become some lovesick kid? – that secures itself around him when Liam rests a hand in Zayn’s lap and pulls away from Safi enough to eye Zayn with a grin.

“I missed you,” Liam says quietly, leaning further in.

Zayn snorts, shaking his head.  “You’re still cheesy.”

“Looks like I’ll have to change professions then, yeah?  You’re marrying a dairy farmer from now on,” Liam teases and Zayn can’t help but roll his eyes.  Incredibly cheesy and shit with jokes, that was Liam Payne.

 _His_ Liam.

Zayn edges in with Liam, his nose scrunching with a small laugh because he can’t help it.  As awful as Liam is at being funny, he makes up for it with the looks on his face, the way he looks like he’s honestly trying to make someone laugh.  It’s an unintentional charm, unlike Harry’s cheekiness or Louis’ quick wit, that Zayn falls for, hard.

Liam’s hand slides beneath Zayn’s shirt when their lips meet, his tongue swiping over Zayn’s bottom lip.  His fingers rest against Zayn’s stomach for a moment, dragging over that thin trail of hair just beneath Zayn’s navel.  Zayn’s heart echoes in his ears, their mouths moving quietly with the kind of need that makes Zayn want to forget all of this just to pull Liam somewhere dark and kiss his lips raw.  He wants Liam’s body against his, mouths pleading for air with something hard rubbing against Zayn’s thigh, fingers tangled in Zayn’s already tousled hair.

He settles for the kiss, the way it moves patiently.  It’s long, drawn out with soft giggles and sharp breaths.  He can taste the tea Liam’s had earlier, that hint of honey, the little sweets he knows Liam’s snuck during his shift at the record shop.  It’s on Liam’s tongue, the way it’s licking at Zayn’s teeth, dragging over his own tongue, over the roof of Zayn’s mouth.  Fingertips on his chest now, tapping along to Zayn’s thundering heartbeat – one, two, three, a rattle of _four-five-six_.  His teeth nip at Liam’s bottom lip, their noses brushing when the angle changes just for a second before Safi’s groaning unhappily while Niall makes some remark about not shagging in front of their son.  His eyes blink open to watch Liam salute Niall with his middle finger, Zayn joining him just for the hell of it.

Zayn settles himself, Liam toying with Safi’s hair while Safi coughs out a few breaths, sneezing loudly before burying himself in Liam’s embrace.  Zayn runs his thumb along Liam’s neck, sliding over the back of it, playing with the short hairs there.  He listens to Liam hum quietly to Safi, grins at the numbing pain in his heart.  He watches Safi lean back, smiling, nodding his head along to Liam while Louis fusses about Harry’s stupid fedora, Niall helps Tricia with all of the cups and plates while rattling on about how wonderful she is.  He doesn’t need to compliment her, Zayn’s certain she’ll give him some extra dessert to take home with him for he and Eleanor.  Zayn can’t guarantee El will ever see it though.

He chews on his lip as Harry tells a drawn out story about a new film he’s seen – something like the _Hunger Games_ but “wicked cooler” according to Harry, not that Zayn will ever bother to watch it – while Louis bites at Harry’s shoulder.  Niall’s on the floor by them, head tipped back to listen to all of Harry’s words, nodding along.  Liam pretends to listen for a moment, laughing at the way it takes Harry an eternity to get through the first half of the plot while Safi toys with Liam’s phone.  There’s soft humming again, Liam’s lips pressed to Safi’s temple while Tricia makes a spot for herself on the couch they’re already crowded on, toying with Safi’s feet while he giggles through a game of Angry Birds.

Zayn listens intently as Louis and his mum discuss wedding details – Louis refuses to wear pink because he feels it’ll make him look ridiculous.  He wants to remind Louis of the years of bright, striped shirts, braces, and washed out, colorful trousers that were rolled up at the ends.  Oh, and there was the year wear Louis dressed as Catwoman for Halloween.  Honestly, he thinks wearing pink would be the last thing that would make Louis look ridiculous.  Still, Harry is keen on the idea though Liam seems to wave it all off with a raised brow and slanted smile on his lips.

Niall offers the number to the DJ from his wedding, a few of the caterers as well as the lovely woman – well, she wasn’t actually _lovely_ with the way she shoved Zayn down the aisle, pinched at Safi’s cheeks every chance she got, and fussed with Louis for almost an hour about boutonnieres and why Harry couldn’t wear his silly hat  
if he wanted to be in the wedding party – who helped to coordinate the whole thing.  Zayn nods along, considers taking down a few of the numbers but his mum and Louis are already raving about their own plans.  They’ve sort of become the self-appointed “wedding planners,” not that Liam or Zayn have had much of a say in that decision either.  He doesn’t mind, the way Tricia is constantly on the phone with Liam’s mum, both nearly in tears by the end because, _“it’s going to be so beautiful.  Can you believe our sons are doing this?  Oh, and Safi…”_

Zayn sinks back against the couch, smiling.  He remembers Niall’s wedding, somewhere in March when the air tasted like spring and the world sort of shifted slowly just on that day.  Somewhere in Ireland – the only request Niall made; Eleanor controlled the rest – with a rolling sky of platinum clouds and thunder.  It was the way Niall wanted it – the rain drizzling as the backdrop with candles lighting the church, all of the pews nearly filled, and nothing short of laughs and celebration throughout it all.

Zayn bites down on his lip, the image of Eleanor walking down that aisle, arm-in-arm with her father, still feathered across his mind.  Her smile, doe brown eyes, wavy hair tucked up in a neatly done bun with a beaded white dress – Zayn ignored Louis’ numerous comments about already hitting that because, well, he couldn’t laugh at something so inappropriate during the wedding; the reception was different though – and everyone’s eyes on her as thick tears slide down her rosy cheeks.  He remembers the looks Liam gave him from the pews, Safi in his lap with large eyes on all of the people, the satiny white decorations, the way the minister spoke in an accent so thick even Louis was biting on a laugh.

That look on Liam’s face, stars dancing across the night’s sky, kept his attention for far too long.  The promises in those brown eyes, ones that Liam repeated later on when Safi was asleep in their hotel bed while Liam slid into Zayn, surrounded by the mist of the hot water slicking their skin.  The shaking breaths from Zayn’s lips while they were in the shower, hushed moans trickling behind every one of Liam’s promises.  Zayn’s lips were raw before the ceremony finished, sneaking glances at Liam while Zayn twisted that band around his own finger until his skin burned from the heat.

He can still hear Niall and Eleanor’s vows – El’s a little more traditional while Niall’s sounded like something off of the Alan Carr Show, complete with words Louis probably wrote for him to sound eloquent but felt anything but coming from Niall.  He remembers the way Niall was choked up by the end, giant tears hanging off blonde eyelashes with a smile on his lips and bitter red blush against his cheeks.  Even Harry was a wreck before it was done, squeezing Louis’ hand while Eleanor’s mum sobbed loudly from her seat.

He had never thought of how much it meant until then – two people declaring their love for one another until something as powerful as death tore them apart.  He didn’t know what it could do to someone, the way Niall was a complete disaster for days until the wedding, settling into some desperately in love man the moment he saw Eleanor.  The way one moment, with rings and silly music and someone actually saying, “I now pronounce you,” could permeate so deep inside of him.

But it did.  It rocked against his senses while he wiped at small joyful tears stinging his eyes, looking at Liam like they knew what they were doing.  Like they could do it.  And the way Liam smiled at him, thumbing away his own tears while Safi clapped merrily, made him believe it.

He could marry this man.  He could forget being some lost, confused boy with an infant, a woman he loved for their friendship but not her heart, who was ready to run away from it all.  A boy who let his best mate convince him to buy a stupid and ridiculously large plant, leaning against his door the moment Harry Styles walked into Louis’ life, dragging along that lad with the large brown eyes, round cheeks, buzzed hair, nice lips, and the sort of amazingly fit body that still makes Zayn’s dick twitch.

It didn’t feel cliché at all, watching Niall and Eleanor playfully take pictures while Zayn leaned against Liam, Safi’s back pressing against their legs as he watched in awe.  No, it didn’t feel storybook to picture that being him and Liam, holding each other, laughing through stupid poses and silly kisses.

Still, his heart fluttered, his palms were sweaty, his stomach had managed to learn how to do actual _cartwheels_ in his body, and he might’ve been insanely in love.

Yeah, fucking madly in love with Liam.  Horribly clichéd or not.

“Oh, _orchids_.  Orchids would be splendid,” Louis chimes, his grin far too pushed up for Zayn’s taste, “wouldn’t it Zee?”

Zayn grimaces, Liam ducking his head with a small laugh.  He pats at Zayn’s thigh sympathetically, not that it’s making Zayn feel any better.  Still, he covers Liam’s hand with his own, grinning at the way Liam spreads his fingers so Zayn’s can slide in between.

“Pale blue waistcoats too,” Tricia beams, eyelashes fluttering with a simmering happiness.  “You gents would look so sharp.”

Niall cocks up an eyebrow, Harry’s eyes going wide.  Louis clears his throat with a smirk, adding, “And Zee, you’d look just darling if you slick your hair back – “

“No,” Zayn says flatly, cutting Louis off.  “You don’t get a say on the hair, Lou.  _No_.”

Louis’ nose scrunches, Harry rubbing at his shoulder compassionately.

“Or the music,” Niall pipes up.

“I have brilliant taste in music,” Louis argues, a pout already passing over his lips.

“Shit taste,” Niall grumbles, tensing when Tricia shoots him a disapproving glare.

“You do,” Harry agrees, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to Louis’ cheek.  “We can’t have Zayn and Liam walking down the aisle to ‘Teenage Dream’ or something by the Fray.”

“I didn’t hear you objecting to our first dance being ‘You Found Me,’ Haz,” Louis snaps, pulling slightly away from Harry.  It’s not much, it never is.

“I was bladdered,” Harry laughs out, scrubbing his long fingers through Louis’ hair.

“You had _two_ drinks,” Louis says flatly, his lips pursing.  “Rum and pineapple juice, Harry, honestly.”

“I figured you were hammered too.  You had two pints,” Harry says with a shrug, the corners of his mouth curling with a grin.

“And five shots, but that’s beside the point,” Louis remarks, huffing out a long sigh.  “They’re not dancing to any of your brilliant choices like Bob Dylan or Lana Del – “

“You love Lana Del Rey,” Harry protests, his brow furrowing.

“It’s true.  You do Lou,” Niall agrees.  Zayn bites down on a laugh, his tongue pressing against his teeth with a smile when Louis makes a face at both of them.

“Are you quite finished?” Louis snaps, trading glances between Harry and Niall.

“You had fun at the concert,” Harry mumbles, Niall nodding along again.

Louis rolls his eyes, flopping back against the couch while crossing his legs.  “I swear, you’d think you two were dating or something.  _I’m_ shagging him, not Ni, Christ.”

Harry makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, something dead like a laugh there while Niall winces, shaking visibly.  Liam joins them, his upper lip curling at the thought of Niall and Harry in any form that involves a lack of clothing.  Zayn merely shrugs, leaning toward Safi.

“Uncle Lou loves Uncle Haz, I promise,” he whispers with a short giggle, his nose running along the shell of Safi’s ear.  “This is how they show it.”

“Uncle Lou says you and daddy show your love by – “

“He better not,” Liam says quickly, Zayn cupping a hand over Safi’s mouth to muffle the rest of his words.

Louis doesn’t seem too bothered by the looks Tricia and Liam give him, circling his arms around Harry again.  Their fights never last long, not the ones worth having at least.  Zayn wonders if Louis gave that up long ago, somewhere in the middle of that All Time Low concert with Harry’s hand on the small of his back and his eyes on Louis rather than the band.

The room settles into friendlier chats – more stuff about the wedding, Tricia gushing over the pictures from Niall’s wedding, something about a new band Harry wants to bring to the next Acoustic Night, Tricia asking Liam about the shop, even a story from Louis that seems fairly tame until the part about him dressing up as Spider-Man and Harry possibly being Mary Jane.  Niall’s texting Eleanor while Louis makes faces, Harry air drumming along to whatever song was in his head.  Zayn rests his chin on Liam’s shoulder, breathing him in – something woodsy and stinging like peppermint on his skin.  He listens to Niall run through a few ideas with Louis for some plan they have and Zayn knows that’s never good but he’s not going to comment.

Tricia gathers up the dishes, Harry helping this time while Liam and Safi giggle together, Safi using Liam’s phone to take selfies of him and Liam.  They’re all a bit silly, the faces Liam pulls and the way some of the pictures are a bit out of focus because Safi’s laughing too hard but it’s the kind of ridiculousness that Zayn’s used to between the two of them.  He smiles at it, relaxed and drifting into his own world.

“ _Baba_ , c’mere,” Safi whines, doing his best to angle the camera like he’s seen Liam do so many times before.  Zayn grins, the way the tip of Safi’s tongue sticks out his small teeth with a crooked smile over his lips.  He’s doing his best to fit everything into the camera’s view while Liam giggles behind him, sliding an arm around Zayn’s shoulders to draw him a little closer.

“C’mon babe,” Liam whispers, nuzzling his nose against the dusting of scruff on Zayn’s cheeks.

Zayn fights against the blush sinking into his skin, biting down on his lip.  He inclines closer to Safi, pulling his son into his lap.

“Baba,” Safi sighs out, a sputtering of coughs following.

Zayn catches the frown poking at Liam’s lips, nudging his head to Liam’s to soften the worry settling into his expression.

“He’s okay.”

“I know,” Liam whispers but there’s still a sting of doubt in his voice.

It’s a bit adorable, the way Liam is far more worrying than Zayn is.  He does his best to disguise it through blank expressions, drifting eyes, teeth that bite his lip raw but Zayn takes notice every time.  It’s in the set of those thick eyebrows, the pull on the corners of his lips, the way his hands won’t stay still.

He presses a quiet kiss to Liam’s temple, lips dragging downward while Safi groans.

“Not now baba,” Safi grumbles, still trying to angle the phone correctly.  He doesn’t put up a fight when Liam’s hand folds over his, helping him to set the focus on all of their faces.

“Got it Saf?” Liam offers, his thumb dragging over Safi’s tiny fingers.  Small touches, the sun bowing to the night.  It’s endearing in a way that has Zayn’s chest swelling, his smile thickening.

“Thank you daddy.”

“Welcome babe,” Liam says softly into Safi’s hair, breathing him in.  It’s the slow drizzle of caramel in his tea, making everything a bit sweeter, thicker.

They let Safi snap off a few pics, all of them blurred images before Liam steps in, clicking off a few with Safi’s face wedged between kisses from Liam and Zayn.  There’s a couple of them just smiling, Zayn’s tongue pressing against his teeth with Liam’s grin wide, lifting his round cheeks upward until his eyes are tiny slits of brown.  Safi’s leaning on Liam’s head for one, Zayn giggling into Liam’s cheek before they get a final one with Safi’s short arms wrapped around Zayn’s neck with Liam puckering a kiss to Zayn’s scruffy cheek.

“I want one,” Louis whines, stomping his feet like a child.

“Oi, you’re a complete idiot,” Niall groans, swatting at Louis.

“One day,” Harry whispers, leaning into Louis.  “And he or she will be just like me.”

“The world would be so fortunate,” Louis says in a deadpan tone, rolling his blue eyes.

“I believe you two will be quite fantastic parents,” Liam speaks up, letting Safi crawl into his lap again.

“Even if we don’t get to adopt,” Harry starts, drawing his arms around Louis.  He pulls gently until Louis’ shoulder blades press against his chest, his chin hooking over Louis’ shoulder.  There’s a sharp slide of a smile across those cherry lips, his dimple pronounced while those rippled emerald eyes shine bright.

“Safi is like our son,” Harry says, running his cheek against Louis’ until his fedora is pushed back, soft curls pushing out.

Louis nods quickly, Niall joining him.  There’s a genuineness in their smiles, three pairs of eyes shifting over Safi as he tugs at Liam’s shirt, tries to draw his attention to whatever game Safi’s playing on Liam’s phone.

Zayn’s stopped running away a long time ago.  He hasn’t stopped running.  He hasn’t found a way not to want to run into this feeling, collide with it until it smashes its way into his system permanently.

That feeling of always having a home, no matter where he is.  As long as he has his mates.  As long as Liam’s there.  As long as Safi’s in his arms.  This, every piece of them, is his family.  His home.

“And he’s even better now that we don’t have to change his shit diapers,” Louis adds, his smirk high and curling.

Niall nods empathically, gently bumping his fist against Louis’ in solidarity.

“You never changed his diaper,” Liam remarks, scrubbing his hand over Safi’s head until Safi tries to crawl away.  He laughs loudly, circling his muscular arms around Safi and easily dragging him back.  His cheeks lift high, the sounds of Safi’s giggling drawing up an aching smile.

“I _supervised_ ,” Louis declares with a finger pointed high in the air.

“And you were shit at that,” Niall laughs out, wincing when Louis’ swiftly kicks him in the back.

Zayn slinks an arm around Liam’s midsection, listening to Niall and Louis fuss until Tricia’s shaking her head, waving a finger at them.  Harry’s cozy watching it all, leaning on Louis while watching over Safi in Liam’s arms.  Zayn presses his lips to Liam’s jaw, up to his cheek.  He lets them rest there, swirled in this slow burning warmth.  He lets the hair on Liam’s face tickle him, his nose sniffing that sticky scent of Liam’s skin.  It’s all he needs for a few breaths, letting Liam draw his hand over Safi’s head.

Safi looks up through sleepy eyes, smiling at Zayn for a moment.  Zayn smiles back, pressing his forehead to Liam’s temple while running a hand over Safi’s belly.  He lets Liam’s hand cover his, eyes staring down at that silvery black band around Liam’s finger.

It was something simple, like Liam wanted.  Louis insisted on the three diamonds in the middle, small, barely there drops of starlight that, yeah, Zayn _gets_.  He sees the significance in the way they sit on Liam’s ring.  He knows what they represent and Liam was nearly choked on his own breath when Zayn first gave him the ring, somewhere in the night when Safi was tucked away in his room and the house was washed over with silence.  He remembers the grin on Liam’s lips when Zayn slipped the ring on, struggling to keep his own hand from shaking while Liam snickered.

He remembers the way the sheets felt against his bare skin, legs wide, Liam sinking deeper and deeper in him.  He can still see the way the pale moonlight danced off of their rings, fingers twined.  Zayn held on to every breath while Liam pounded into him.  He remembers the smile on Liam’s lips when he drug it out, slow thrusts deep in Zayn that he felt with trembles.  He remembers the way his lips fit over Liam’s birthmark, Liam sitting up with Zayn in his lap, quietly riding him.  Lips tasting tears, salty drops that slivered down Liam’s cheeks, over his nose.  He can still feel the smile on his own lips because he did that to Liam.  He pushed Liam down to the foot of the bed, grounding his hips down, feeling Liam pulse in him while Liam smiled through tears.  Tears that were from the kind of happiness Zayn didn’t know was worth achieving.

It was.  Fuck, the way he came across Liam’s chest while Liam held his hips down, spilling inside of Zayn – it was all worth it.

He licked away those tears, let Liam chase away the taste with his own tongue while their hands remained melded together.  He slept like that, rumpled hair resting on Liam’s slow rising chest with the sheets tangled all around them.  He felt Liam shifting in the night, looking down at that ring, at Zayn’s, whispering soft declarations about how this was going to be forever.

He was a fucking lovesick fool in the morning, biting back his own tears while Liam showered because he believed Liam.  Yeah, he believed every word Liam ever said.

**

The moon is dusting over the room an hour later.

His mum left with peppering kisses across Safi’s forehead with promises to return tomorrow before gentling kisses against Liam’s cheeks, a tight hug for Zayn that reminds him this means more to her than it ever meant for him.  She’s blotting away tears, reminding Liam to let Safi drink some ginger ale for his stomach and telling Zayn to let him sleep as long as he needs, even if his fever has sort of tempered off and there’s some sort of color to Safi’s cheeks again.

Harry, Niall, and Louis follow suit, jokes and cheap hugs passed around until Zayn secures his arms around Louis, drawing him in with soft words.  He thinks there’s small tears clinging to Louis’ eyes when he pulls back though Louis fights it all off with sharp words and crude jokes.  Still, Zayn knows Louis appreciates what Zayn whispers – things about Louis being happy, being ready to marry Harry if he ever wanted, and supporting Louis through all sorts of stupid moves like marriage and adoption because Louis’ his best mate.  They both push out smiles and Harry promises to come play with Safi tomorrow, something Liam approves of even though it means Harry will be skipping out on important meetings concerning the shop.  Liam makes exceptions for things like that – the smile on Safi’s face.

The lights are off, the moon filtering glittery light and a pale glow.  The bluish luminosity from the television sweeps over the room, chasing away shadows and lighting up the sharp angles of the furniture.  The sound is a bit muted, low and lulling with the beams of the night lighting Liam and Safi’s face.  The crickets are loud, the sound Zayn thinks he’ll never get used to being so far from the city.  The wind is light, a soft rumble of thunder in the distance and he wonders what the leaves look like dancing against the warm breeze.

Liam’s humming softly – _Sing me to sleep. Sing me to sleep. I’m tired and I want to go to bed_ – while running his hand idly over Safi’s head.  They’re cuddling closely on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table with Safi nestled between their bodies.

Zayn’s clicked off his phone, Liam’s tucked somewhere between the couch cushions and _Toy Story_ is playing aimlessly on the telly.  There’s a quiet hush sinking through the room, Safi’s soft coughs echoing against the walls every now and again.  Liam’s running his sock-covered foot over Zayn’s bare one, his other hand rubbing at Zayn’s thigh with Zayn’s arm strewn around Liam’s wide shoulders, his head resting against Liam’s.

Safi’s breaths are a little forced for a while, a smile perched on his lips as he watches Woody and Buzz dance across the screen.  His face lights up against the washed out glimmer of the moon, laughing along and mouthing the words like Liam does when he’s really invested in a film.  Tonight, he’s not.  Zayn can see the exhaustion, the way all of his movements are slow, lazy but meaningful.  Every touch reverberates, chases away worried thoughts in Zayn’s mind because Liam’s fingers press in, graze over, warm him in ways words can’t.

He nuzzles his head against Liam’s, stroking a hand down Safi’s face when Safi yawns, – _Don’t try to wake me in the morning ‘cause I’ll be gone_ – the sound quiet and short.  Zayn grins, Liam’s thumb pressing on the inside of his thigh, fingers drawing circles and star shapes.  They’re out of their clothes, Safi in a pair of pajama pants with little Disney characters on them and one of Zayn’s old t-shirts that fits way too big on him but he thinks Safi likes the smell of it.  Maybe it reminds Safi of younger days when he was cradled against Zayn’s chest, waiting on Perrie but still sound asleep with a pacifier between his lips.

Liam’s in a pair of joggers, Zayn’s fingers toying with the wispy hairs in the center of his bare chest.  Zayn rests in a pair of Liam’s boxers, an old Boyce Avenue shirt that Liam likes for reasons Zayn’s still not sure of.  He lets Liam’s fingers fan over the thick hair on his legs, smirking when Liam’s fingers try to lazily slide further up his leg, beneath the bottom of those boxers just to get closer to the heat of Zayn’s crotch.  He hopes that maybe later, when Liam’s eyes are heavy and his lips are pleading, there’ll be more touches.  Gentle tugs of hair, swollen lips, his fingers wrapping loosely around Liam’s cock while his thumb peels back the foreskin.  There’ll be lips circling his cock while he licks at the head of Liam’s, fingers sliding across each other’s hole until one finally gives in, pleading to be fucked.

He ignores the protest of his cock, twitching and starting to fill because Safi’s still there.  He can wait.  For Liam, he can wait until that time is given.

Liam leans down to press a kiss to the top of Safi’s head, sighing a shaky breath out.  Safi moans softly, cuddling just a little closer to Liam before dropping a hand onto Zayn’s forearm, fingers tickling against Zayn’s skin.  Zayn watches them – _Don’t feel bad for me. I want you to know. Deep in the cell of my heart, I will feel so glad to go_ – with careful eyes, the way Liam and Safi fit together.

His eyes shift closed, thoughts of Liam and Safi chasing each other through the backyard while sheets of rain tumble down on them.  He can hear their laughter, watching from the sliding glass door with a smile tucked on his own lips.  The way they danced through the water, Liam scooping Safi up to spin him around and around and around.  He remembers the rain trickling down their faces when they ran to him, pulling him into a wet embrace that he whined about because their skin was cold but everything inside of him was warm.  It was a glowing heat and his heart fluttered a little too fast, accepting damp kisses from Liam while dragging his fingers through Safi’s soaked hair.

He can still see Liam in that flat near the city – _Sing to me. Sing to me_ – laying Safi down in his crib.  He bites down on his lip, chasing a breath that pulls at his lungs.  He can still hear Liam’s humming, the way he would lean over Safi’s crib for hours while running a hand over Safi’s cheek, waiting for him to wake again.  He can see the blush sticking to Liam’s cheeks when he’d catch Liam sneaking into Safi’s room just to lay a kiss against Safi’s warm, pinkish soft cheek.  He can feel Liam’s arms tightly wound around him, the two rocking in pretty silence with Safi’s breathing running through their ears as they waited on the sun to dance through the room and scatter its light over Safi’s face.

He can smell the tea Liam would make while Safi clutched to Zayn in the living area after a nightmare.  He can hear Safi’s whimpers – _I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore_ – while Zayn hushed him, smiling against Safi’s forehead before pressing gentle kisses there.  Safi shaking in his arms when Liam settled down next to them, rubbing thick fingers over the small of Safi’s back until he calmed.  He can taste the tea, the hot burn of it across his throat while Liam sung softly to Safi.  Safi’s shallow breaths against his bare chest, Zayn’s sleep-dry lips against Liam’s, the world stilling into a wondrous slumber as they fell asleep against Liam on the couch.  He can still feel every soft knock on the door anytime Safi had a nightmare after that, little cries hidden in the dark that made Zayn’s lips quirk into a smile as Liam sleepily crawled out of the bed, ushering Safi into their room while he put on a kettle.

Safi was safe in his arms, quieted by Liam’s voice, warmed between them while they chased after the last few hours of the night – _There is another world. There is a better world._

“ _Leeyum_ ,” Safi croaks out, tipping his head back some to look up at them.

Liam quirks an eyebrow immediately, honey-brown eyes looking on Zayn questioningly.

Zayn sighs, flirting with a smile for a moment.  “Uncle Lou is a horrible influence.”

Liam nods with his own smirk, leaning in to brush his nose against Zayn’s.  His fingers drag up and down Zayn’s thigh, tickling inward until Zayn’s shuddering on a breath.  It rings up a smile on Liam’s lips, looking pleased with the result.  Zayn wants to punch him.  Or fuck him against a wall.

He thinks he can do both later, when Safi’s asleep in his room.

Liam’s eyes fall on Safi, his brow lifting with a question in his eyes.

“I’m happy you marrying baba,” Safi sighs out, holding in a small cough.  There’s a lethargic smile on his lips, his head tilting with childish wonder.  “Because I love you daddy,” he adds, his voice raised above the sounds of Woody’s chatter, “like my baba loves you.”

It’s like a sweet lullaby, the way Liam’s eyes are lit up.  His face softens, cheeks rounding as his mouth spreads for a smile.  His thick eyebrows lower, his brow crinkling and his scruff prickles beneath the tips of Zayn’s nimble fingers.  He reaches out, tangling his fingers with Zayn’s, rubbing his pinky over Zayn’s ring.

Just a reminder.  Just a little promise that maybe everyone else seems to understand.

“I love you too _beta_ ,” Liam says quietly, catching the way Safi’s face circles with contentment, “and I love baba too.”

Safi tucks himself back between them, grin sliding into something softer.  He hums softly along to ‘You’ve Got a Friend in Me,’ Liam joining him as he cuddles closer to Zayn.  Zayn pulls him in, darkening patches of his skin with hard kisses and closed eyes.

He listens to Safi’s breathing evening out a little later, Liam tucking his head into Zayn’s neck, running his lips over Zayn’s skin until he’s deep in his own peace.  He’s content.  He’s breathing Liam in, running a slow hand over his son, living in this reverie until it’s cocooning him into a lulled state.

With every _“I love you”_ that runs across Liam’s lips, Zayn knows this feeling is warm, it’s magical.

It’s his life and it’s the way it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you to anyone who leaves me comments or kudos on my fics. You are love and I see each one with a giant smile on my face.
> 
> Just wanted something to make me feel warm and tingly to get over a few thoughts in my head. Hopefully it isn't too awful but I guess this was my one time to write something a little more for me. Thinking about writing a final piece in this little series by writing Zayn and Liam finally getting married but idk. Not sure yet. Find me on [tumblr](http://jmcats.tumblr.com) !! xx Jesse


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